Ten Moments
by KatZen
Summary: Ten moments Jeff wouldn't change for the world.
1. Moment One

**Disclaimer: The Thunderbirds are the intellectual property of Gerry Anderson and their respective affiliates. No money is made from this. Any unrecognized characters are product of my imagination in overdrive, though.**

**AN: Just a little sad/happy thing that I wrote before state wide exams. It can be read two ways, as a stand alone story or as a tie in to the 'saga'. It should be easy enough to read as a stand alone, so don't worry if you haven't read any other stories. Anyway, enjoy!**

Ten Moments

Moment One

You walk into the classroom for the first time that semester, and you see her there. You are mesmerised by her.

You notice she doesn't wear make up, and you realise that she doesn't need to. She's beautiful enough already.

You are entranced by the chestnut hair falling past her shoulders in soft waves, the way her eyes sparkle like slightly burnt honey on toast as the sun reflects off them, the way she runs a hand through her hair, pushing the locks out of her eyes and nervously biting her lip.

She catches you staring and smiles at you. You blush, embarrassed that you've been caught out and then smile back. Making your way into the classroom, you scrape a chair out from under the desk and sit next to her.

In the next thirty minutes you learn several things about her.

Her name is Lucy, Lucille, really, but only her mother calls her that.

You notice her voice is tinted with a slight British accent. Londoner, you think, but you're no expert. She reveals that she grew up in London – you were right – but moved to America because of her dad's work. She plays the flute, violin and piano and loves to paint.

You also discover one disconcerting fact: she has just turned sixteen and already has a driver's licence. You are nearly seventeen, you reveal to her, and haven't applied for a licence yet.

She laughs in that melodious tone of hers – by God, if that isn't the sweetest sound you've ever heard – and pats you on the back in a friendly manner.

"No matter," she teases gently, laughing again, "I'll drive you if you need to go anywhere."

You try not to let that bother you.

Too much.


	2. Moment Two

Moment Two

You flatten your hair, in vain attempt to try and make it look like there hasn't been a nuclear explosion on your head.

To no avail.

It irks you. Everything has to be just so tonight. Everything has to be perfect. Everything has to be for Lucy.

Hiding the bunch of flowers behind your back, you raise your hand and knock quietly on the door. You've been waiting for three years to ask this question, and have been saving up for a ring for six months. You wonder whether you should go through with this, or wait. What are a few months, in the grand scheme of things?

Lucy opens it, looking absolutely stunning in a plain but elegant caramel coloured dress. It clashes with her eyes amazingly well.

Momentarily breathless, you present her with the flowers.

"Jeff," you hear her gasp, "these are beautiful! Thank you!"

"Only the prettiest flowers in the world for my girl," you reply. The words roll off your tongue, easily, and any doubts have vanished from your mind.

Without even asking the big question, you know her answer will be yes.

This is meant to be.


	3. Moment Three

Moment Three

Together, you sway slowly on the spot, Lucy's gown getting conveniently caught under your feet. You try not to trip, you try not to stumble, you don't want to ruin her wedding gown, but sometimes you can't help it. Your feet just keep getting tangled in the mass of white silk.

Lucy laughs as you almost collapse on her, dancing has never been your thing, and you grin back at her. Planting a soft kiss at her temple, you look around at your audience. You see your parents. They are smiling, proud, yet sad. Their son is taking a step away from them, moving on with his life.

You see Lucy's parents. Her mother looks on, pleased. You know she adores you, ever since you fixed her car and had third helpings of lasagne.

Her dad, on the other hand, glares at you. You know what it means.

_As much as it pains me to say this, you're a good match for my daughter. But if you mistreat her in any way, or make her cry, I will hunt you down and make it physically impossible for you to father any children._

You have no intention of letting that happen.


	4. Moment Four

Moment Four

Your breath comes in a frenzied panic as you perform an illegal u-turn, making sure the police haven't seen you.

This shouldn't be happening. Not today. It's too soon. Too many things can go wrong. You should have been there with Lucy when this started.

Eight months ago, you had come home from work, only to find your wife, shocked, mouth agape, holding a glorified pee stick. Proof positive that you were going to be someone's Daddy. You were responsible for another human life. Excitement ran though you and you started counting down the days. For you, nine months couldn't pass soon enough.

But nine months weren't over yet.

You speed down the road, consciously aware that you have just been snapped by one of the many speed cameras in this state. Screw the speed limit. The birth of your baby is much more important.

You remember Lucy throwing a book at your head when she was five months pregnant because you refused to crawl out of bed and buy some pumpkin pie flavoured ice cream at two in the morning.

_Is this because of me?_ You think irrationally. _Is this because I wouldn't buy pumpkin pie ice cream when you wanted some? Baby, I'm so sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you. I promise I'll be the best dad ever. As soon as you're born, you can have all the ice cream and pumpkin pie you like. Just stay alive. Hang on until I get there._

_Please._

You hurtle into the maternity ward, ignoring the reception desk and scream Lucy's name until you locate the room she's in. She shoots daggers at you, and if looks could kill, you would be lying stone cold on the floor with a chalk outline surrounding your body.

"Well, guess who finally decided to show up," she snarks. "Clearly, our child has inherited YOUR lousy sense of timing, Jefferson!"

You're not disagreeing with her there. It's sad, but true.

"Everything's gonna be alright," you reassure, not just her, but yourself as well.

You're not reassured. Babies, especially firstborns, aren't supposed to just pop out early.

But yours is.

You're worried.

Your baby is coming a month early, and it's not good.

You're scared you'll lose them both.


	5. Moment Five

Moment Five

You're numb. It's like the day Scott, Gordon or Alan were born. Only this time it's worse.

She's gone.

You'll never see her again.

She was swallowed whole by the monster of white. Now she sleeps, endlessly under a blanket of snow.

You need a drink. You know you shouldn't, since your children are right next door, but you have a two fingered shot of whiskey anyway.

"Daddy," you spin around and see your third eldest son standing in the doorway. The resemblance to her is not what you need to see right now.

"Daddy, when's Mommy coming back?"

You slam the glass down on the counter, feeling it crack and splinter into your hand. "She's not," you growl. She's dead. "She's never coming back."

You turn your back so you don't see the tears pool in his eyes at your revelation.

"Daddy," your son tries again.

"Virgil, now is not a good time. Just leave me in peace."

You have successfully pushed the son who resembles the love of your life away from you, right when you need him the most. Somehow, you sense another lost boy ushering the hurt one away. You know your carbon copy is comforting her carbon copy. You realise your carbon copy is taking over the job you were supposed to do.

From that moment, you vow that no family will have to go through what you and your family are going through. You conceive the idea of your sixth baby; International Rescue.


	6. Moment Six

Moment Six

You pace up and down the hospital floors. You hate hospitals. They're too clean, reek of disinfectant and are far too clinical. They make you feel detached. Desensitised. Lost.

Your son is in surgery. His life hangs in the balance and there isn't a damn thing you can do to make it better. You want to scream in frustration – isn't this what International Rescue is trying to stop – and at the same time, you know you need to be the one that is emotionally strong and stable. Your sons need you.

Alan hasn't stopped crying. He sniffles, blows into a tissue and buries his head into Virgil's sopping shoulder. Virgil is stoic and sombre. He breathes in deeply, slowly, trying to calm his simmering fears.

You should have known this was going to happen. Bad events always happen to Tracys. You have one son deployed in active duty in the Air Force; the other one is a deep space astronaut and your last one is a deep sea officer with WASP. Something like this was bound to happen, sooner or later.

Your phone vibrates, and you pull it out, looking at the text.

No Scotty, you think as you shake your head, no change. I wish you were here. I wish you could come out here and make things right. I wish you could help me deal with this.

The doors to the OR swish open and a doctor covered in blood splattered scrubs walks out. Your heart stills, just for a moment. There shouldn't be that much blood.

The next words you hear are music to your ears.

Your son is alive.

Critical, but stable.

Critical, but alive.

You have to wait some more time before you see him, but it's manageable now you know your son is fighting for his life.

Nothing shocks you more than the sight of him as you walk into his room. He is still, motionless, lifeless. You have to grasp onto his hand to make sure he's real. You look down at him, emotions mixing and mingling in your eyes.

You and your son have been given a second chance.

You will never take any one of your sons for granted ever again.


	7. Moment Seven

Moment Seven

Command and Control is up and running. John has just called through from his brand new space station, Thunderbird Five. There's a rescue.

International Rescue's first rescue.

Our first rescue.

You hit the klaxon button and your sons come rushing in. Scott is practically bouncing off the walls, he's as hyped up as a three year old on a sugar rush.

You pull him aside and gently remind him that rescues aren't a good thing as it means that people, lives, are in danger.

He agrees and says, "Dad, I know this is bad, believe me, I do, but this is the first time I'll be taking my baby out for something other than pleasure inducing joyrides."

For your own sanity, you pretend you haven't heard that.

Virgil is slightly more subdued. His nerves must be getting to him; he may be starting to doubt his abilities. You wish he wouldn't. You know he is more than capable of pulling off this rescue without too much drama. With him and Scott there, nothing should go wrong.

You nod and they make their way to there respective 'babies'.

Finally, you utter the words you have dreamt of saying since your wife's death.

Thunderbirds are go.


	8. Moment Eight

Moment Eight

You lips draw into a thin line. You stare heavily at the son who has gotten himself in trouble, so to speak. You can't believe he's kept this from you for six months. You can't believe you've been so blind to not notice the increasing amount of business trips over the past eight months.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. _Does she know?_

He nods, reveals that he met her on a rescue. No point in lying about that.

If possible, your lips go thinner. You son has just admitted to breaking the cardinal rule of the cut-throat commercial world, mixing business with personal life.

It gets far too complicated when that happens.

You almost take pity on your son – he looks like he could use a whiskey right now – but you sternly remind yourself he was the one that got himself into this mess.

"Well, son, what do you intend to do?"

"I don't know! I don't even know if I want this right now!"

Those words shock you. You never thought you'd hear them come from a Tracy mouth, let alone from this particular son.

"I mean, what if I screw up? What if, in twenty years, the kid ends up hating me for something I did, or didn't do, said or didn't say?" He searches your eyes, looking desperately for some hint of fatherly advice. "I don't even know the first thing about being a dad! It would be so much easier to not get involved."

"Now you listen to me, boy. You got your girl into this, and if she's going to do the hard yards, you're gonna damn well stand by her. I didn't raise a Tracy to run away from responsibility." You force the order down your son's throat. "And when that kid of yours is born, you're gonna stand by him or her as well, like I did for you. Because that's what being a dad is about. More importantly, that's what being a Tracy is about."

You dismiss your son with a flick of your head. You have a lot to take in.

"Son," you call out to his back, "if it makes it easier, you marry that girl and bring her back here."

That would be looking after her. And looking after people was one of the things a Tracy excelled at.


	9. Moment Nine

Moment Nine

You finally understand the look on your parents face when you got married. While this is not the first of your sons to get married, this is the first wedding you've been invited to. Your other two married sons eloped, one to avoid the attention of the world and the other because it was a spur of the moment thing.

You can't believe that your baby is finally settling down with his long time childhood sweetheart. Your baby is stepping out from under your wing and into the big, bad world.

There isn't anything you can do to stop him. If something terrible happens, it won't be you he goes to now. It will be his significant other. But you can live with that. Just as long as he knows you are always there for him.


	10. Moment Ten

Moment Ten

It's moments like this when you wonder why the world was cruel enough to take your wife away from you. She would have loved the scene playing out in front of you.

You watch one son stroll in for the usual family dinner, hand placed protectively around his wife, who carries their second child. He's sucking up to her after their little disagreement. You can tell because you and Lucy were exactly the same.

"Not fat," he murmurs in her ear, "Just heavier." At her glare, he changes tack. "I mean, rounded. More of you to love."

"That's cute," she replies, snarling slightly as she sits down on the chair your son has pulled out for her. "But you're not forgiven."

Son number two idles in, snorkel and flippers tucked under his arm. He sees you and runs over, desperate to show you new pictures of the reef he's just discovered.

Son number three wanders in and takes his place next to his brother. "You in the doghouse tonight?"

"I would be," the brother replies, "if we actually had one."

Son number three chuckles. "Oh, dear brother of mine, older does not necessarily mean wiser."

Son number one shoots him a look.

The penultimate son walks in, scribbling away in his book as he works on his latest manuscript, his wife trailing behind him. With an amused grin, you snatch the book out of his hands, confiscating it for the duration of the meal.

The last son breezes in, hand in hand with his wife. They are still in their honeymoon mode. You hope that will never end between them.

Everyone is seated and the meal begins. You feel a warm sense of contentment as you observe the dynamics between them all.

They look out for each other. They are a family. And that is what being a Tracy is about.


End file.
